Take Me Away
by Pagan Ianthe
Summary: Katie is in a mess; her boyfriend has left her, very publicly for another woman. Marcus finds her when she is at an all time low, how will his past help her to cope with her future?
1. Chapter 1 - 2001

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter characters; they are the creations of JK Rowling and the property of WB, Bloomsbury Books and Scholastic.  
**Author Note:** Please enjoy and I love hearing from the people who enjoy (or don't).

_2001  
_  
"I can't believe it." Katie slumped down on one of the benches outside Florian Fortescue's and buried her head in her hands. "This is such a pile of crap," she peered down at the battered copy of _Witch Weekly_ that one of her team-mates on the Harpies had so gleefully handed to her at the end of practice.

Katie was so busy staring at the offending magazine and the photos that were so well displayed on the front page that she didn't even notice that she was no longer alone until the person who was slightly blocking her light cleared their throat. Looking up, Katie blinked a few times, willing away the tears that were threatening to fall, and attempted a half-hearted smile. "Was there something you wanted?" She kept her voice sharp, contemptuous.

"My, my, Bell. No wonder Wood left you." Marcus picked up the copy of Witch Weekly and flicked through the pages, making admiring noises here and there, watching Katie carefully for her reaction. "And Miss Brown is so photogenic." He raised his eyebrows when he came across a particularly revealing shot of the couple kissing on a beach somewhere. "Such a curvaceous body she's got." The way that he looked Katie up and down made sure that Katie knew he was comparing her to Lavender, and Katie was the one that came up wanting.

"Those pictures were taken ages ago," Katie stood up and snatched the magazine from Marcus' fingers, ignoring the sound of ripping as the pages came apart and tiny pieces of paper flittered to the floor like delicate butterfly wings. "He's not seeing her anymore. It was just a fling anyway." She knew that her excuses sounded weak, but there was no way she was going to admit to Marcus Flint, of all people, that Oliver had called her only a few days before to tell her that he had decided Lavender was the woman he wanted.

/Flashback/

"Katie, I know that this is going to be hard for you to accept." Katie could hear a female voice in the background; the line was a little fuzzy, long distance calls were never that good.

"Is she there?" she didn't want to sound like a jealous fishwife, but she felt sick inside and wanted an excuse to get off the phone.

"Lavender? Yes. Look, Katie, this is really awkward. I just wanted to tell you before you saw the article. We got married yesterday."

Choking back a bitter laugh, Katie dug her nails into her palms, wincing at the pain she was causing herself, but at the same time glad of it. "Married? Oliver did you get her pregnant?" The line went quiet for a moment, she could hear a muffled noise as though Oliver had put his hand over the mouthpiece, but she could still hear something.

"Do be serious. You can't accept it can you? You always were stubborn." The sound of high feminine laughter filled Katie's ears and she bit her lip, pushing down the words she wanted to say.

"You're the one who begged me to come back, Oliver. You promised me that whatever it was you had with her was a phase and you loved me." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Thank you for calling." She put the phone down slowly, tears rolling unchecked down her face as she fell to her knees by the sofa and harsh sobs caused her body to shudder uncontrollably.

/End Flashback/

"Who are you trying to fool, Bell?" Marcus sat down on the bench beside her and had to fight the sudden desire he had to pull her into her arms and rock her like a baby until the tears stopped. He knew only two things about Katie Bell, one of them was that she had been in love with Oliver Wood for years, and the other was that she hated to show weakness.

"Okay," she wiped her nose on her sleeve and then sniffed loudly. "So they weren't taken ages ago. He married her…all right?" The last words were yelled in Marcus' face. Normally he wouldn't take that kind of action from anyone, but he could see that she needed to yell at someone, and better him than someone on the Harpies. The last thing that Katie needed now was to lose her job.

Feeling as though he had been punched in the gut when he finally got a glimpse of her pale blue eyes glistening with unshed tears, Marcus grasped one of her hands in his and squeezed it gently. "It's his loss."

"Right at this moment I doubt very much he's thinking that," Katie looked at the magazine which seemed stuck on those pictures of Oliver holding Lavender in a passionate embrace as different from any that he had given her as night was from day. "I just feel totally stupid." She finally crumpled the magazine up and threw it accurately into a nearby bin. "I mean, all the signs were there. He kept on cancelling our dates, and then, out of the blue, he told me that he was going on holiday with a few of the lads. We were meant to be going to the Island together this year," she sniffed again. "I thought he was going to propose."

"Well he obviously proposed to someone." The minute the words were out of his mouth Marcus felt like a complete heel. The Marcus of the past wouldn't have felt any guilt at making a Gryffindork cry, but he had changed, and even before the first sob escaped Katie's lips he was mentally punching himself in the face. "I'm sorry. Old habits."

Wanting to just run away, Katie looked up at Marcus as though she was only just realising whom was holding her hand, and blinked. "Why am I talking to you about this anyway? You're probably just going to go back to your friends and laugh about it." She pulled her hand out of his quickly and glared at him," D'you know," she tried to imitate his voice, deepening her own a few octaves until it sounded a little less feminine. "I saw that stick, Katie Bell and she was crying. She was stupid enough to believe that Oliver Wood would propose to her…Instead he left her crying and married that Lavender Brown girl." Feeling like a complete fool, Katie stood up. "Well, thank you for listening, even though you didn't really want to." She walked away without giving him a chance to say anything. She didn't notice the way that he watched until she vanished into the crowd at the end of Diagon Alley, had no idea that his eyes were following her the way they had done all those years before.


	2. Chapter 2 - 1993

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter characters; they are the creations of JK Rowling and the property of WB, Bloomsbury Books and Scholastic.  
**Author Note:** Please enjoy and I love hearing from the people who enjoy (or don't).

_1993_

Marcus sat down in the Slytherin stalls and leaned over to watch as the Gryffindors practised their moves for the match on Saturday. He knew that Wood, if he realised that someone was watching them, would go ballistic, but he knew that he could handle the burly Scot, and to be honest, he would welcome the verbal battle. Anything was better than the 5-foot Potions' essay he had to finish for his late detention.

He was grinning at the way Wood had to shout at the two Weasley boys to make them take notice of him, when he noticed Katie Bell. The twig-girl was hovering just below his eye level, her dark blue eyes trained on him, her brows furrowed and the Quaffle in one of her raised hands.

"What are you doing here, Flint?" She raised the Quaffle even higher in her hand when it appeared that he wasn't going to answer her.

"It's a free world, Twig!" he spat the hated nickname at her, watching as she bit her top lip, and all of a sudden the urge to suck that full lower lip into his own mouth, nibble on it with his teeth, filled him. He gathered his robe over his lap to hide the unexpected reaction from her eyes, and glared back at her.

"I'm not a twig," she shifted slightly on her broom, tightening her thighs around it, and then let go, holding onto the broom with only her legs. She tossed the Quaffle casually between her hands and watched him as though contemplating whereabouts she wanted to hit him with the hard leather ball.

"I wouldn't," the words were a warning, but they came out smoothly, a velvet caress that caused Katie to shiver for some reason that she didn't fully understand.

"Oh? And why would that be?" She grinned at him, still watching his every move carefully.

"Because I only came here to watch. There's no law against it and I wasn't bothering anyone." Normally he wouldn't be so agreeable. Normally he would snap and taunt and tease and be downright mean, but for some reason he couldn't be bothered today. For some reason he wanted, more than anything, to pull Katie off her broom and into his lap. Shaking his head, mortified that he was having such thoughts about someone who was considerably younger than he was, Marcus clenched his teeth and glared at Katie, willing her to go away.

"You're bothering me," Katie returned his glare with one of her own, her eyes narrowed further and she tightened her hand around the Quaffle, preparing to throw it.

"Look, Bell. I am not bothering anyone who matters so just fly off on your little broom and go bother someone who actually cares." His voice was gruff with suppressed arousal and he was irritated with himself for his reaction to the girl.

Gritting her teeth and glaring furiously at Marcus, Katie turned on her broom and flew back to hover behind Oliver, listening avidly to his every word. She shook her head, confused when she realised that she was thinking more about Marcus Flint than she wanted to, he was a jerk, a nasty, slimy Slytherin bully who called her names constantly and, on more than one occasion, had knocked Oliver off his broom.

"You all right there, Bell?" Oliver turned concerned eyes to Katie, the youngest girl on the team. He watched as she shuddered slightly and then smiled, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Fine. Just thought you should know, Flint is watching us." She nodded her head in the direction of the stands where Marcus was making it more than obvious he was paying little attention to what was going on in the Gryffindor practice.

"Well," Oliver raised his voice a little bit, his thick Scottish brogue even clearer with the increased volume. "He can watch all he wants, it won't help his team beat us next Sunday." His outburst caused the rest of the team to laugh.

Katie smiled triumphantly when Marcus picked up the small notebook he had brought with him – she didn't know he had any idea what one of those was used for – and stalked off, his words were muffled by the wind, but Katie was able to make out a few words, "sorry…stupid…twig…" Although they were insulting, Katie couldn't help but feel as though she had won this game, although she had no idea really what the rules were.

~*~

Marcus sat down beside the fire in the large comfy armchair that was traditionally reserved for the captain of the House Quidditch team and rested his head on his hands as he stared absently into the flickering flames that rose up the chimney. What the hell had happened today? He was confused and that was rarely an emotion that he enjoyed and one that he would never admit to. Confusion was a weakness, and Slytherins weren't weak. He narrowed his eyes when the flames of the fire turned green and the imperious voice of his father filled the empty room.

"Marcus, you were meant to come home this weekend. Why did I hear back from Professor Snape that you hadn't turned in your visitation request?" Marcus winced when he realised how angry his father must be. He knew perfectly well why he was expected to visit the family seat for the weekend, and it wasn't something that he wanted to go home for.

He wasn't going to take the Dark Mark, it was just that the longer he put off saying anything, by either avoiding the letters or the home visits, the longer he had to plan his escape. He had seen what the mark had done to some of his friends, pushing them into unpleasant arranged marriages and forced to kill people they had been in classes with. He had purposely failed his last year at school to avoid being at home and under all the pressure to fall to his father's will.

"I'm sorry, father. But we have an important match coming up, against the Gryffindors, and I know how important house pride is to you." House pride, it was something that Jasper Flint valued nearly as much as his high position in the Dark Lord's council. He half-smiled when his father's face appeared clearer in the green flame.

"You will beat those insufferable Muggle lovers. No son of mine will lose anything to them, they don't deserve the title of Wizard." Jasper's voice was loud, echoing clearly in the deep cavernous rooms that made up the Slytherin dungeons.

Lowering his head, not meeting his father's furious eyes, Marcus nodded and murmured in the affirmative, then waited for further comment on the fact that he had refused yet another visit home. "As soon as this game is over, Marcus, I expect to see you in my study. I will put up with no further disobedience. Is that clear? If you ignore my orders again you know what will happen."

Taking a deep breath, Marcus wondered exactly how the punishment would go this time. The last time he had ignored a direct order from his father, he had returned home over the summer holidays to find that his younger sister, Eleanor, had mysteriously suffered a broken arm and the right side of her face had been burned badly enough to cause permanent deep-tissue scarring. Furious beyond belief at what his father had done, Marcus had confronted him, only to be told that worse would happen if he were ignored again.

"This has nothing to do with them," Marcus kept his voice low, but the anger was there, evident in every stiff movement of his body. "They aren't in control of what I do."

With an exultant smile on his face, Jasper raised his one eyebrow and studied his son carefully. "Obviously it has the desired effect. You will do as you are told or else they will suffer the consequences. It is up to you." In the blink of an eye, Jasper Flint's visage vanished from the flames and they returned quickly to their normal red-gold hue.

Slamming his fist down on the arm of the chair hard enough that it cracked the varnish, Marcus stood up and stormed into the room that he shared with his best friend, Terence Higgs, the only person he trusted not to spread it around that Marcus was doing his damnedest to avoid taking the honour of the Dark Mark.

Terence looked up from the pile of papers he was looking through and blinked at Marcus through the glasses that no one else was aware he needed. "What's wrong? Another call from your father?" It was no secret, between the friends, that Marcus and his father were working from different ends of the 'family loyalty' scale. To Jasper family loyalty meant that everyone did what they were told to by him or else they suffered the consequences. To Marcus family loyalty meant sticking up for the people that mattered to him and doing everything he could to protect them.

~*~

Katie sat alone in the girls' changing rooms, her wet Quidditch practice clothes hung, dripping, on one of the pegs above her head. For some reason she couldn't stop thinking about Marcus Flint. She knew that he was a slimy, greasy git and definitely couldn't be trusted, but there was something about him, even with those awful teeth, that made her curious. Shivering as cold droplets of water dripped from the ends of her hair onto her back, she shook the thoughts of Marcus aside, and focused on her crush, Oliver.

She smiled when Alicia, one of the other Chasers on the team, poked her in the back and demanded that she stop drooling over their team captain and focus on getting dressed so that they could all go to dinner. "He's a really nice bloke, Katie, but he's focused on nothing but Quidditch, all the time!" Alicia had known Oliver for years, their families were friends, something to do with a shared holiday destination or the like, but just because Alicia thought of the Quidditch-obsessed boy in a brotherly way didn't mean that Katie had to. As a first year she had developed a crush on Oliver Wood, and over the last three years that crush had grown and grown until she was nearly as obsessed with him as Ginny Weasley was with Harry Potter.

"He's not always like that," Katie protested, all the time knowing that he really was always that focused. Unlike most other boys of his age, Oliver Wood spent most of his time coming up with new practice methods for the team, and new patterns to enable them to score more points against the opposition.

"You don't know him well enough yet. You'll find out soon enough that the only thing he ever pays attention to is Quidditch. I bet he'll end up marrying some Quidditch groupie."

Not liking that idea at all, Katie jokingly glared at Alicia, pulled on her regulation grey jumper and stood up. Quickly changing the subject, Katie picked up her overloaded satchel and headed towards the door, "Let's go to dinner. I'm starving."

Unable to disagree with that statement, Alicia followed after Katie, using a levitation charm on her own heavy bags, feeling far too tired to carry them herself.


	3. Chapter 3 - 1993

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter characters; they are the creations of JK Rowling and the property of WB, Bloomsbury Books and Scholastic.  
**Author Note:** Please enjoy and I love hearing from the people who enjoy (or don't).

_1993_

Morosely staring at the food on the plate in front of him, Marcus was unable to distract himself from his earlier conversation with his father. He knew that Jasper Flint was not a man that took no kindly, ever, unless he was the person saying it.

Marcus was running out of excuses, and no doubt Snape would be finding it just as difficult to find ways of keeping him out of Voldemort's clutches. The extra year at school had been just one more way of keeping Marcus away from the Dark Lord, but the excuses were quickly losing their power.

"You going to eat that?" Marcus looked up and grimaced when he noticed one of Malfoy's little followers - Crabbe…or Goyle, he could never tell the difference - staring at the food on his plate.

Pushing the food away, half-smiling, Marcus stood up from the table and walked up to the dais to speak with his head of house. He didn't know how much Snape would be able to do to help him without exposing himself to suspicion, but it was worth a try to ensure his own freedom.

"Professor Snape," his head lowered, speaking quietly so as not to be overheard.

"Yes, Flint." Snape continued to push the quickly cooling glutinous porridge around in his bowl. "Make whatever it is quick." He pushed away from the table, stood up and swept out of the hall, his heavy robe flaring dramatically behind him.

Taking care that no one was following him, Marcus slipped into Snape's private rooms through one of the many secret entrances that only few were aware about. Snape was already leaning back in a black leather recliner, his legs crossed at the ankle on the matching footrest.

Marcus suppressed a grin when he remembered the first time he had seen his revered professor this relaxed, more like a slumbering lion than the slimy, sneaky snake most people believed him to be.

Spotting Marcus entering his rooms, Snape leaned forward a little and steepled his fingers together. Taking a deep breath he opened his mouth and asked, "What can I do for you, Mr Flint?"

Shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other and back again, Marcus twisted his hands in front of him. "My father has contacted me again, Sir. He wants me to return home for the Mark at the weekend." Looking at the floor, he waited for the questions he was sure would soon come.

"When did you last hear from your father?" With a subtle flick of his wrist a chair slide out from underneath his desk and Snape inclined his head towards it. "Take a seat, Marcus."

Marcus slumped down on the chair and, mimicking Snape's own posture, moved down further in the seat and crossed his legs at the ankle. "He sent a letter a few weeks ago, I told him that we had an important match and I would be unable to make it."

"And I take it that the excuse fell on deaf ears?" Snape remembered Jasper Flint from the Revels. He was a big man with a very small heart and even less concern for anything but the image that he conveyed to people. He had only met Jasper's wife and their daughter once, but he recalled them both as being slight and very nervous around people. He felt very sorry for Jacinta and Eleanor, and could see much of himself in Marcus.

"Jasper is determined that I follow in his footsteps. He's threatened to hurt Eleanor if I don't do what he says, but I don't want to take the Mark. I just want to play Quidditch."

Nodding his head in understanding, Snape crooked one of his fingers at his bookcase, summoning a rather heavy tome towards him. Flicking efficiently through the delicate pages, he bit back a triumphant shout when he found the chapter he was looking for. Tapping the page, the grin on his face growing wider, Snape turned the book around and levitated it over until it was beside Marcus' chair.

Reading through the paragraphs that Snape had found, Marcus allowed himself to feel a little bit of hope, "Do you think that it might work?" He picked up his wand and used a transcribing spell to copy down the major parts of the potion and corresponding charm.

"Mr Flint, I am never doubtful of my plans, merely of the people that try and carry them out." With another efficient flick of his wrist he removed the book from Marcus' lap and returned it to its rightful place on the bookshelf, between Incredible Potions and how not to use Them and The Dark Arts: A new Perspective.

"Thank you, Professor." Marcus could see that Snape considered the meeting between them finished, and he made his way out of the dark, atmospheric office as quickly as he had made his way in, through another of the secret entrances that littered the rooms. When he turned around, he found that this one just happened to take him to the passageway leading into the Great Hall.

~*~

That night, after all the younger students were in bed, Marcus dragged himself out of his room and sneaked down the hall to the laboratory that all seventh year potions students had access to. He knew that Terence would already be in there, working on some kind of new Contraceptive potion that left no trace in the system (perfect for all those girls who didn't want their parents to know they had been with a boy). He sometimes wondered whether Higgs wasn't working with those two strange Weasley boys, just to bulk up his already ridiculous inheritance.

"What are you doing in here, Flint?" Terence couldn't help looking surprised at Marcus' presence in the labs, he was. He knew that Marcus wasn't as stupid as everyone assumed him to be, but that didn't mean that he actually went out of his way to do more work than was necessary.

"I didn't realise that this room was for your exclusive use, Terence." Raising an eyebrow at his friend wryly, Marcus went to the store cupboard and started to pull the various ingredients from it that he would need for the potion part of the charm.

Sighing dramatically, Terence turned his attention back to the potion he was working on, and managed to ignore Marcus' frustrated grunts and slamming of tools for the rest of the evening.

It was gone 2am when Marcus finally produced the effect that he wanted. The potion had turned a thick glimmering silver, the smoke emanating from it a dark green. He pulled a delicate heart dangling on a fine silver chain from the inside pocket of his robes and dipped it quickly in the potion. He grinned with satisfaction when he noticed that the heart was momentarily surrounded with an eerie green glimmer before it returned to the new silver it had previously been. "It worked," he fought back the desire he had to punch a fist triumphantly in the air and simply packed away the potions ingredients before pouring the remaining potion into the specially designed waste disposal that Snape had provided in all the labs.

By the time he was able to return to his rooms, the whole school was in darkness. He sneaked through the corridors, determined that he wasn't going to get caught by anyone out after curfew; that was the last thing he needed right now. He pushed open the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room and ran through the room, unaware that someone was sitting in the chair by the fireplace, taking part in a quiet conversation. He had no idea that he had been seen, or that his suspicious antics were about to be reported to the one person who didn't need to know.

Marcus woke up slowly, his head pounding, feeling as though he had been tortured within an inch of his life. When he opened his eyes he realised it was possible this wasn't far from the truth. He was dangling by the aching wrists from the wall of a dungeon. He tugged at the chains, but found that they were far too strong for him to break without magic, and as he slept naked he knew that his wand was not likely to be anywhere near him. "So you're finally awake, boy!"

Marcus jerked in shock at the familiar harsh voice of his father; he narrowed his eyes and glared down at the man standing in front of him. "What am I doing here?" his voice was rusty, his throat dry.

"I would have thought much was obvious, even for an idiot like you, Marcus. You're here because you have so far failed to do your duty, I aim to make sure you don't try and run!" Sure he had already won, and not averse to revealing his plans now that Marcus was secured where no one would find him, Jasper Flint rolled up his left sleeve and revealed the glowing green and black dark mark on his arm. "This is your family duty. You have been making excuses for long enough." He stroked his fingers almost lovingly over the mark that marred his tanned skin, and then looked up his son, eyes filled with anger. "The ceremony will take place at midnight, there are guards at the door and they have orders to kill Eleanor if you so much as look as though you are going to fight."

Tense, his hands curled into fists, Marcus gritted his teeth and took a deep breath, determined that his father wasn't going to see how much his threats had affected him. "They'll come looking for me!" the words were muttered between lips that were far too dry.

"Like they actually care about you!" Jasper laughed. As he turned to leave he turned to his son to deliver his parting remark, "it's been a week, Marcus. Why would they come looking for someone who left so willingly?"

Feeling sick, wondering if they really hadn't bothered to look for him, Marcus closed his eyes and concentrated hard on his own rescue. Surely someone would come looking for him; surely someone cared?

~*~

His rescue, when it came, was quick and brutal! One moment he was suspended from the wall, chains secured around his wrists and ankles, the next he had been cut down, his legs buckling beneath him as someone checked him over quickly and threw a blanket over him, "Don't want to frighten the ladies, Flint!" If he'd had the energy he would have laughed, but as it was his throat was dry and he had barely enough energy to walk to the hole in the wall where a barred window had once been.

He walked out into the sunlight, a hand shielding his eyes from the bright light, and right into the path of an _Impedimentia_ curse. Fury spurred him on and he fought the curse for only a few moments before someone reversed the effects. Left and right people were covering the ground. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his father, an arm around Eleanor's throat as he staggered across the battlefield. "If you come any closer," he yelled, panic apparent in his voice, "she dies. I'll do it, just ask her mother!"

Marcus felt anger course through him at the fear on his sister's face, and he didn't hesitate. Already stalking furiously in his father's direction, Marcus barely stopped to snatch up a wand from one of the fallen Death Eaters – Vincent Crabbe Snr he noticed absently – before he dropped the blanket covering his modesty and stood in front of his father. "Let her go," he growled aggressively, at the same time trying to convey to his sister that he had come to save her. "You've already lost this battle."

Shaking his head, a maniacal gleam in his eyes, Jasper tightened his hold on Eleanor's throat. "All the time I'm still alive the battle isn't won. Do you really have it in you, son? To kill your own father?" He wasted no time, seeing Marcus hesitate – even though it was only for a second – he released his hold on Eleanor and pushed her towards her brother and, with a crack, vanished.

Fear swelling in his stomach, Marcus picked his sister up and cradled her against him, murmuring words of reassurance into her hair. Eleanor returned his embrace, her arms tightening around his shoulders as he stood up, "You should put some clothes on, Marcus!" she berated him even as she sought comfort in the safety of her older brother's arms. "I don't think that anyone is meant to see this much of you before you get married."

Chuckling, relieved that they had survived this battle intact, Marcus picked up the blanket that was coiled at his feet and, after wrapping it around them both, apparated to the gates of Hogwarts.


	4. Chapter 4 - 2001

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter characters; they are the creations of JK Rowling and the property of WB, Bloomsbury Books and Scholastic.  
**Author Note:** Please enjoy and I love hearing from the people who enjoy (or don't).

_2001_

Anger spurring her on, Katie tore the photos from the wall and threw them loudly into the thick black sack on the floor. She had to get rid of every reminder of him, even if that meant tearing through her home and disposing of half of her childhood memories. There was no way she wanted to see his smug face staring out at her every time she walked into her own home. Sickness churning in the pit of her stomach, she ripped the back off one of the photo frames that had adorned her bedside table and proceeded to tear Oliver's head from his broad shoulders, "Bastard," she sobbed as she threw his surprised face into the bin and then placed the frame back on the low table.

"Chicken shit bastard, I hate you!" That was the problem though. She didn't hate him! She would take him back in a moment if he ever decided to ask her. He was someone else's husband and still she loved him.

Slumping down on the edge of her bed, tears rolling unchecked down her cheeks, her body racked with sobs, Katie struggled to think about something other than how much of an idiot she was. Oliver belonged with someone else, she should have realised that so many years ago, before she had become involved with him, but she had been blind to everything but the fact he had shown her some interest and she had lapped it up like an unloved puppy dog.

Reaching down she dug her nails into her thigh, gasping quietly when she broke the skin and a trickle of blood made a bright red trail down to soak into her sock.

"Enough of this…" she took a deep shuddery breath. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself Katie Bell." She stood up and walked over to the mirror, staring at her reflection for a few moments, studying the crystal tracks on her cheeks before wiping them away. "You're worth more than this!"

Picking up a handful of floo powder, she tossed it into the fireplace in her bedroom, "Angelina Weasley," she called into the green flames, pasting a smile on her face when her best friend's head appeared.

"Katie, I was so worried about you…how are you?"

Waving off Angelina's concern, Katie held up the bottle of wine she had retrieved from the fridge before proceeding to destroy half of her flat, "fancy going out for a Friday night drink?" she hoped that she didn't sound anywhere near as desperate as she actually felt.

Grinning, Angelina didn't bother to answer, simply stepping through the flames and into Katie's bedroom. "So where're the glasses then?"

Sighing, relieved that she wasn't going to have to spend the night alone, Katie handed Angelina the bottle, "Since when did you need a glass? Did I suddenly develop the lurgy or something?"

They were well on their way through a third bottle of rather cheap wine when Katie had the 'wonderful' idea of heading out to a club she had heard a few of the Harpies' girls talking about the previous week. Angelina didn't take too much persuading that it was a good idea to head to 'Black Widow', she was already pretty drunk and, after a brief visit back to the house that she shared with both Weasley twins to change into something that she considered a little bit more suitable for a night on the tiles, both girls headed off, giggling hysterically about something that wasn't really too funny.

It was nearly eleven when the two girls reached the front of the queue at the Black Widow, it was obvious that the destination was an extremely popular one with witches and wizards alike, which, to Katie was a good thing. Tonight she was going to find oblivion, and she wanted everyone to see that she didn't care what had happened, that Oliver Wood and his new wife meant nothing to her.

Sitting down on a stool at the bar, she crossed her legs confidently and leaned across Angelina, gesturing to the smartly dressed barman, a shiny plastic card in her hand.

Smiling, Marcel realised that his newest customer was already rather drunk, rather pretty, and somewhat familiar, although he had no idea why. He made his way over to her and took the card from her hand, making sure to stroke her arm at the same time. "What can I get you?" he put more emphasis on his fading French accent, sure that she was the sort that would find it more than a little attractive.

Ignoring the fact that this man was rather handsome, she had done handsome and look where that had got her, Katie gestured to the card, "there'sh no limit on that, I'll have a glash of that over there…" she pointed vaguely in the direction of one of the stronger Muggle spirits on the optics and giggled, "she'll have the same!"

Two rather large shots later, Katie was laughing over something that Angelina had said, although she couldn't remember what it was, and watching the couples gyrating on the dancefloor. A maudlin feeling over took her for a brief second, but she pushed the emotion down, determined that thoughts of Oliver Wood were not going to ruin another night. "Come on," Katie hopped off the stool, staggering a little on her rather high heels, "let's dance together…" Pulling Angelina to her feet, the two girls made their way through the throng onto the dancefloor, arms around each other as they swayed to the music, unaware that their movements had garnered them a rather interested audience.

~*~

Marcus took a mouthful of his, thankfully, ice-cold beer and almost choked. Katie Bell, steadfast, sensible Katie Bell, was dancing. It wasn't that she was dancing per se that had him spitting his drink over Blaise Zabini – who was actually relatively oblivious to his surroundings, his tongue stuck down Luna Lovegood's throat as it happened to be – but that she was dancing rather sensually against Angelina Weasley. "I won't be a minute," he told his heedless companions before putting his drink down on the edge of the bar and stalking onto the dancefloor.

The sound of the music was echoing around the tall-ceilinged club, pounding against his skin even as his heartbeat started to speed up, the pulse drumming madly in his head. He reached out and closed a hand over Katie's shoulder, his eyes telling her drunk best friend that he would take care of her, make sure she didn't get into any trouble, that she was safe. Angelina nodded, an inebriated smile on her face as she made her way unsteadily back to her seat at the bar.

Katie turned into his arms and wrapped her own around his waist, snuggling her face against his chest, seeking the comfort and warmth that had surrounded her. "Hmm," she purred, the sound rumbling against his chest, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

She began to move against him sinuously, like a cat, her hips rubbing against his in a way that he couldn't help but imagine her doing naked beneath him. Growling, he raised a large hand and cupped her chin, lifting it until their eyes met. She's pissed as a newt! he realised even as he was lowering his head, his lips brushing briefly against hers before the kiss exploded and she opened her mouth to him, her tongue seeking his, duelling with his.

The kiss could have set the club on fire, in fact, if it had gone on any longer it was possible it would have done. Katie had lifted one leg, wrapping it around Marcus' thigh to bring him closer.

He could feel the heat of her through his clothes and wanted nothing more than to sink into it, be consumed by it. His lips left hers and he started to kiss a trail from the sensitive spot behind her ear to the valley between her breasts. Her hands were all over him, nimbly undoing the buttons on his shirt before burrowing into the faint trail of hair on his chest, her fingernails scratching lightly over his painfully aware nipples. "Please…" she managed to gasp when one of his hands closed over her sensitive breasts, squeezing lightly.

"All right, that's enough!" a muscle-bound dinner jacket clad bouncer broke through the lust-induced reverie, breaking the unaware couple apart. "This is a respectable club…you want to do that you go somewhere else." Katie was gasping for breath, her vision blurred slightly by the amount of drink she had consumed, her mind clouded with hunger.

Every part of Marcus' body was taut, strung out, desperate for more of what he knew that Katie had been promising him with every stroke of her hands across his bare chest. He narrowed his eyes at the bodyguard who had broken them apart and wondered if he would actually get away with knocking the large man out, he doubted it, but part of him wanted to give it a try anyway.

With a grin he reached around the larger man, grasped one of Katie's hands and dragged her towards the exit. The owners of the Black Widow had learned from past mistakes and after a few weeks of enduring people apparating into the club to avoid paying the 3 galleon entrance fee, they had put some very effective wards up. Once they got outside, away from the barrier that marked the point where apparition wards began, he wrapped his arms around her and, after placing a light kiss against her willing lips, Marcus raised his wand and apparated them both to the front gate of his small, but extremely well protected, town house.


	5. Chapter 5 - 2001

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter characters; they are the creations of JK Rowling and the property of WB, Bloomsbury Books and Scholastic.  
**Author Note:** Please enjoy and I love hearing from the people who enjoy (or don't).

_2001_

Katie's head felt as though it was going to explode when she opened her eyes the next morning and she turned her face away from the light bursting through the blinds covering the window. Hang on; her bedroom window didn't get the early morning sun. Obviously she had overslept, that was the only explanation for it. Sitting up suddenly she grabbed her head, desperate to halt the painful pounding behind her eyes. With a quiet groan she managed to climb out of the bed, wrapping the thin cotton cover around her body and walked over to where the door was meant to be.

Realising that she wasn't in her own room, panic started to well up inside her. Oh shit! What did I do last night? She took a few moments to study the bedroom she had slept in, it was very plain, very stark, cream and brown, very masculine. Eyes open a little wider she took in the photos on the solid table underneath the window and moaned. Who did I do last night?

Marcus almost knocked her over when he walked into the bedroom, a tray laden with toast and orange juice in his hands. Katie took a step back, stumbling on the bottom of the sheet she had wrapped around her, and landed in a rather naked and very fetching heap on the floor. A hand raised to her lips she watched as Marcus placed the tray down on the table next to the photographs and took a few steps towards her, concern etching his features. "Are you okay?" He offered his hand, which she took, and pulled her into his arms. "I thought I'd let you sleep in, you were out for the count."

"Did I…Did we…Uh…" Shaking her head, ignoring the little men with hammers that rattled inside it, Katie cleared her throat and tried again, "what happened last night?"

Wondering whether he should tease her, an urge that was completely out of character for him, or simply tell her the truth, Marcus lifted her up and carried her into the bathroom, turning on the shower before placing her on her feet in the tub. "Have a shower, you'll feel better." He turned away as the cream-coloured sheet she had wrapped around herself for modesty's sake soaked up the water and became transparent. He could see every delectable curve and his palms itched with the need he had to tear the sheet away and smooth soapsuds over her skin.

The moment the bathroom door closed, Katie pulled the frosted-glass shower door across and turned her face to the comforting heat of the water pouring over her. With a sigh she picked up a bottle of shower gel, poured some out onto her hand and started to rub it over her aching muscles. Marcus was right; a shower was making her feel a little bit better.

Her moans soaked through the door. Marcus reached for the handle with shaking hands, his curiosity and desire fuelling him. Breathless he watched as she used a sponge to rinse off the soap, the green sponge following every curve of her body. Hesitating for only a moment, he tore off his clothes, dropping them negligently to the floor, and stepped into the bathtub quietly. Fighting back a groan, he took the generic shampoo from the shelf above his head and, after pouring out a nugget onto his hand, started to smooth it through her honey-blonde hair.

At the touch of his hands on her scalp, Katie stopped everything she was doing, her breath trapped in her throat. She swallowed nervously, and then leaned back against him, the sponge dropped to the bottom of the bath, forgotten.

The breathy sounds of pleasure that escaped Katie's parted lips had Marcus groaning. "Katie," he muttered the word against her hair, his hands curving over her shoulders, cupping her breasts, his thumbs caressing her already taut nipples.

Her legs shaking from Marcus' touch, Katie leaned back against his firm body, her hands clenched around his forearms as he continued to touch her, tease her, torment her. "Marcus," his name was a quiet, desperate cry on her lips. She dug her nails into his arms as she moved closer, the steel of his erection rubbing against her arse. "Touch me, please…" the words were a moan as his hands stroked down over her stomach, between her legs. His fingers parted her, his thumb brushing aggressively at her tautened clit.

Katie thought that she was going to go insane. Her whole body shuddered when Marcus knelt before her, his head buried between her thighs, his tongue rubbing against her, one finger circling her clit teasingly before thrusting sharply inside her.

Grabbing frantically for something to hold on to; Katie's hands curled around the shower hose and she held on tightly as his fingers and tongue tormented her and she came on a screaming moan, her body shuddering violently against his devilish mouth.

If it weren't for the hands that closed about her waist, Katie would have sunk to the floor of the bathtub. Her body was shaking, unsteady, like a perfectly made jelly. She turned in his arms, wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, bringing the tip of his aching cock against her moist heat. Unable to control herself, she arched upwards, her breasts rubbing against his chest as she impaled herself on his length.

As her heat closed about him, Marcus sucked in a deep breath, expelling it on a guttural moan as he turned them both, pushing her back up against the wall, his hands curling around the heated towel rail above their heads. He felt as though he was dying. She was so tight, so hot around him, he could so easily lose himself in her if he let himself.

He came with a moan, his teeth biting into the skin at the curve of her shoulder even as her nails dug half-moons into his back.

The room was silent but for the sound of the water softly dripping from the showerhead and their mingled breath as they held each other, revelling in the momentary peace.


	6. Chapter 6 - 2001

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter characters; they are the creations of JK Rowling and the property of WB, Bloomsbury Books and Scholastic.  
**Author Note:** Please enjoy and I love hearing from the people who enjoy (or don't).

_2001_

The next time Katie awoke she was wrapped in Marcus' arms; their legs were tangled together, her head resting on his chest. Blushing, mortified at how close they were, she wriggled out of his embrace and shuffled to the end of the bed. In a matter of moments she was dressed in her clothes from the previous night and staring down at Marcus' prone body. Leaning down she brushed a light kiss to his forehead and then quickly, quietly, made her way through the unfamiliar house and out of the front door.

Three owls were perched patiently on her windowsill when she arrived back at her flat, after opening the window to let them in she made her way through her bedroom and into the en-suite shower room. She had a quick, cold shower and then sat down on the edge of her bed, wondering if she actually wanted to read any of the post that the owls had delivered.

After a few moments of hesitation and contemplation, she wrapped herself in the long dressing gown she always hung on the back of her bedroom door, pulled her hair back from her face with an elastic band and decided to face her mail.

The first owl was from the _Witches' Pleasure Catalogue_ offering her, as a newly single woman, a 20% discount on all their goods, a bargain if Katie actually had any need of the goods they sold. Blushing when she flicked through the catalogue they had enclosed for her to look at, she quickly used a _diffindo_ and sent the shredded paper to the kitchen bin.

The second owl was a letter from Oliver's solicitors. It demanded that she return the engagement ring he had given her, and several other gifts that he had presented her with during their relationship. Furious at his nerve, and wondering why he hadn't just asked her to give back the things that she had thought were presents, she put the letter to one side, it was something that could be dealt with later.

The third and final owl contained an open invitation from Molly Weasley to stay at the Burrow should she ever need an escape. Wiping away a stray tear as she read through the letter that Molly had sent her, she decided then and there that, despite being positive there was another reason for the Weasley matriarch to send her such an invitation, she would very likely take it up if the press coverage of the Scottish Quidditch Wonderboy and his beautiful new wife continued very much longer.

Today's headline on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ was an 'exclusive' interview with Lavender Wood about her love for her husband and how, despite everything that had tried to keep them apart, they knew that they belonged together. Gritting her teeth and struggling not to tear the paper into thousands of tiny little flecks, Katie started to read the article, wondering how they would skim over the fact that Oliver had actually taken the time to propose to someone else – namely her – and still make it look as though they were love's young dream.

_"I knew that we were perfect for each other the day we met," Mrs Wood proclaimed the moment I sat down with her to talk about her marriage on the Island of Bali to the Scottish Quidditch player. Mrs Wood, formerly Lavender Brown, a Play Witch playmate three years in a row, is sitting on the veranda of the cabana she is currently sharing with her husband of a week, she is wearing a beautiful native dress which makes her look even more slender and delicate than usual._

_From the slight curve of Mrs Wood's stomach it is apparent they are already working on the next generation of fabulous Quidditch players. When asked to comment on this though, she declined, stating; "We haven't talked about children yet."_

_"We couldn't wait to get away, Oliver said that he had a surprise for me, I just never realised that it would be such a wonderful one. We got married on the beach." She went on to tell me all about the wedding, which was planned right down to the Leis on the three-tiered wedding cake by Oliver Wood._

_When asked about previous relationships, Mrs Wood went very quiet before telling us that neither of them were involved with anyone seriously before they met and fell in love. I am sure that Katherine Bell, Chaser with the Holyhead Harpies will disagree with this statement, but through representatives she has refused to comment on the situation._

_"Ollie and Katie were friends really. I am sure that she is really happy for us."_

_After a few moments of silence, Mrs Wood took us on a tour of the house that is being constructed for them, "We want something new, just like us," she informed me as she showed me through the large and very ornate dining and living areas that are already being decorated in deep burgundy and gold "to match our house colours," I was told._

_Just as I am about to leave Mrs Wood's face lights up, her husband has just returned from meeting with his managers at the Scottish National Quidditch Association. It is apparent that they are very much in love. Like the hero from a romance novel, Oliver Wood wraps his wife in his arms and gives her a kiss that made even this seasoned reporter blush like a schoolgirl. Needless to say I wish them both all the best._

The front page of the colour supplement, and two pages inside were littered with images of Lavender and Oliver smiling at the camera, their arms wrapped around each other, totally and utterly unaware of anything else. "I could never really compete could I?" Regret filling her at the realisation that the last few years had been completely wasted trying to keep a man who didn't want to be kept – at least not by her – she folded the paper up and dropped it into the bin, along with the rest of the rubbish.

~*~

Marcus woke up and the first thing he noticed was that he was no longer sharing his bed. He couldn't believe that she had woken up and left as though she was ashamed of what they had shared. He could have sworn that she had been as involved in their shower activity this morning as he had. Irritated beyond believe that he hadn't been given a chance to refresh her memory of how good it had been, he sat on the edge of the bed, pulled on a pair of trousers and raked a hand through his mussed hair before making his way downstairs to pour himself something to drink.

Stacked up on the kitchen table, was a rather large pile of post, obviously Mrs Jacques, the cleaner, had come in while he was sleeping and done the daily chores, which included feeding the post owls, and doing a general tidy up through the house.

He opened a few of the envelopes and immediately discarded them, they were junk mail, "Wizards all over the country are looking for homes in this area, is yours on the market for less than it is worth?" "Tips for cleaning your wand to ensure that no one can trace your last spell…an auror trick!" "Would you like a subscription to something racier than _PlayWitch_? See real live graduates in all their glory".

As with every other day there were also a few proposals. The one thing he really disliked about having money was the fact that mothers with eligible daughters saw him as their ticket to fame and fortune. He wondered if there was a magazine for money-hungry witches who had daughters that had some semblance of beauty…he could just imagine it; "Rich husbands; where to find them, how to trap them, how to get all their money for yourself." Perhaps he should suggest it to Lovegood and Zabini, he knew that they were looking for a new joint magazine venture.

Tossing six 'I have a beautiful daughter, don't you want to marry her' letters onto the pile reserved for the have a laugh over this with my mates category that he kept for the nights when Zabini, Malfoy and Bole visited, he opened up the Daily Prophet – although sometimes he wondered why he bothered to buy a paper that pandered to the Ministry of Magic as this one did. "Shit!" the first page, and several inside, were dominated by images of that stupid prick Oliver Wood and his slut-wife Lavender Brown. Quickly checking his watch he realised that he had very little time, he had to be at 'night training' for the team in about an hour, but if Katie had read even a tiny part of this article then she would probably be in a right state.

Feeling fury fill him at the blatant lack of regard for anyone but themselves, Marcus picked up his training bag from the hall floor, where Mrs Jacques always left it after she had cleaned, and headed out the front door. He had no idea why, but he was really concerned about how Katie was going to react to this article. Angry at his own confused emotions, he slammed the garden gate shut and apparated with a loud 'crack' to the gardens surrounding Katie's building.

Making sure to avoid the press that had gathered outside, he sneaked in the side door and, after checking the accommodation list at the security desk, where the guard was trying his hardest to fend off a group of rather rabid reporters, ran up the stairs to the fourth floor.

When Katie didn't answer the door after Marcus had rung the bell, and banged the letterbox, several times, he started to get a little impatient. She had to know that security wouldn't let any press through, he had even shouted through the door to tell her who it was, but still he had heard nothing. He waited a few minutes, his finger pressed insistently on the door bell, a sound he was sure was enough to make the dead want to come back and kill him, and then realised that she was either not in – although the little blue tick beside her name on the check-in list assured him that she was – or there was something wrong.

Following a few minutes of internal debate, he opened his training bag and pulled out the beater's bat that he always kept with him, sometimes it came in useful to frighten off over-eager press, and proceeded to hit the relatively flimsy door with it. In no time at all there was a hole where the door had once been, and Marcus was afforded a view of Katie Bell that it was unlikely he would ever forget.


	7. Chapter 7 - 2002

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter characters; they are the creations of JK Rowling and the property of WB, Bloomsbury Books and Scholastic.  
**Author Note:** Please enjoy and I love hearing from the people who enjoy (or don't).

_2002_

Marcus stared down at Katie a smile on his face that no one would even dare refer to as tender, not if they didn't want his fist in their mouths. She was lying on her back, one arm flung over her eyes, the other resting lightly on her chest. Sitting down beside her bed he reached for her hand and held it tightly in his own, leaning down until his forehead was resting on the edge of the mattress. "You're looking much better today," his voice was gruff, full of emotions he would never admit to feeling.

With a faint smile on her face, Katie turned her head, reaching out her other arm to cup his chin as she studied him, her hand tightening around his. "You look like shit!" she wasn't one to beat around the bush, not anymore. Marcus was sure that this was his influence on her moods, but Katie liked to tell him it was down to a rather unpleasant wake-up call…"Life is far too short to pretend."

Sitting up slowly, Katie pulled on her dressing gown and shuffled to the edge of the mattress before slipping her feet into her Gryffindor Pride slippers. Staring at her, the sun shining through her nightshirt and dressing gown making them both translucent, Marcus took a deep breath, her slenderness reminding him of what he had found in her flat three months previously.

/Flashback/

Marcus rushed through the gap in the doorway that his heavy oak bat had created and skidded to a halt beside Katie's limp body. One hand was dangling off the sofa, her head was resting lifeless against one dark red sofa arm. He grabbed frantically for her hand and tried to find a pulse. Panic set in when he realised that he couldn't find a pulse because there wasn't one.

Rising to his feet he hefted her up into his arms and carried her to the fireplace in her bedroom. The sick, rolling feeling in his stomach rose in his throat and he knew that he had to get her to some help quickly.

The emergency admissions hall at St Mungo's was packed to the rafters with children sporting obvious 'first-time broom' injuries, Quidditch players who looked as though they had taken the full brunt of a bludger in the face a few times, and an old woman who looked as though she had fallen down the stairs. He rushed to the reception desk where he was greeted by a harried Witch. She took one look at Katie, still limp and unconscious in his arms and the alarm bells started to ring.

He was questioned by so many people that after a while their faces started to blur into one, "Do you know what she did?" "Is she pregnant?" "Has she been ill recently?" Of course Marcus had no idea, he had only met her again the previous day after several years. He knew that it was serious, the theatre where the Medi-Doctor was looking after Katie was locked and sealed, and whenever he tried to get any information he was told, "Sorry, her next of kin has yet to be informed."

When Oliver Wood stalked through the door, Lavender attached to his arm like a limpet, Marcus felt his anger roar to life. The golden couple paused at the entrance to the Emergency Theatres corridor for a few moments so that their photos could be taken, and then they swept into the hall looking as though they owned the place. He could hear the murmured conversation between Wood and the doctors who were looking after Katie, and it was obvious that he was surprised that he had been called. He was even more surprised when he noticed that Flint was sitting in the waiting area.

"What are you doing here?" Oliver stood in front of Marcus and grasped the older man's collar. "What did you do to her?" the words were almost spat in Marcus' face, but he was not going to give the Scottish git the pleasure of responding in any way.

"You're asking the wrong person that question, Wood. I think that you should be asking yourself what you thought you were doing treating her the way you did. Surely she deserved more than you gave her." Oh my God…are you actually listening to yourself, Flint? You're sounding like a nancy-boy Gryff.

"Don't you dare. Katie understands exactly what happened and she's fine with it." Oliver looked over at his wife and gave her a reassuring smile before turning his attention back to his school nemesis. "It would never have worked between us and she's accepted that."

Marcus didn't get a word out, at that moment the sealed doors to the theatre opened and the doctor walked out, a grim expression on his face. He stripped off his gloves as he walked towards the two arguing men and then paused as though trying to figure out what to say.

"Well?" Oliver was getting frustrated, Marcus Flint's presence at the hospital wasn't helping his mood any, nor was the fact that Lavender had acted like a jealous housewife even after he had assured her that there was no need for it, that he loved her and wasn't about to change his mind.

"Miss Bell was very lucky. She had taken a potentially fatal dose of some Muggle medication. We have referred her to Floor 7 for assessment. If you hadn't shown up when you did, Mr Flint, it is quite possible we would not have been able to save her."

/End Flashback/

The last three months had been long, hard but definitely worth it. Katie had been treated by a psychiatrist on Floor 7 for several weeks before Marcus had taken her home, packed up her things and summarily taken over her life, not that she had complained about it. For so long she had been looking after herself, and she quite liked the fact that someone cared enough about her that they were going to look after her. She liked to think that she was strong, but in some ways weakness wasn't a bad thing. Marcus walked over to the window and stood behind Katie, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her closely to his chest. "I think they might let you come home tonight."

He moved his hands up her body, cupping her heavy breasts, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over her dark nipples. "Our bed has been very empty," his voice was gruff, full of promise.

Gasping, Katie arched into his hands as he continued to tease her sensitised breasts, his breath harsh against her ear. "Marcus…we can't!" she moaned when he stopped the touching, instead just holding her even tighter.

"I know. Six weeks isn't really that long, is it."

After peaceful moments watching the sunset through the window, Marcus went in search of a doctor, leaving Katie to dress in privacy.

On his way back to the private room where Katie had been staying for the last few days he paused outside a small brightly coloured room, security locks on the door. He stepped closer and reached a hand out, waving gently, a smile on his face that he was sure looked ridiculous. "Ahh, Mr Flint…" A nurse clad in pale pink robes stepped through the door, it closed behind her with a quiet click. "Are you ready to go home now?"

Nodding he took the fidgeting bundle from her arms and held it close to his chest as though he was holding the most precious cargo in the world. Walking back to Katie's room he babbled the sort of nonsense he had never felt the need to utter ever before in his life.

Today he would be taking his family home, his soon-to-be wife and their 2-day old daughter.

As he walked back into the room and handed Abbie into her arms, he realised that she had finally found peace, and in finding hers she had also helped him to find his own.


End file.
